


Propaganda

by StarshipCaptain



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, First Time, Light Masochism, M/M, Mairon’s Master Kink, Size Difference, Tears, seduction of mairon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:29:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29908041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarshipCaptain/pseuds/StarshipCaptain
Summary: Melkor makes Mairon an offer he can’t refuse.
Relationships: Morgoth Bauglir | Melkor/Sauron | Mairon
Comments: 10
Kudos: 41





	Propaganda

**Author's Note:**

> This entire fic was inspired by the song Propaganda by Muse. It’s not the most original of settings, but what can I say? The lyrics awoke something in me... Enjoy!

“Mairon.” The voice was silk on his skin, soothing the goosebumps that flared along his arms as Melkor slunk into the forge.

“My Lord Melkor,” Mairon acknowledged, barely nodding to the Vala even as he stood a hair too close behind him. He could almost feel the smile on Melkor’s lips as he leant forward to look over his shoulder at the exquisite pendant clamped to the bench. While Mairon had no particular issue with Melkor, he wasn’t one to rejoice in being interrupted during his work; it was far more important to him than anything else. Besides, Melkor had a bit of a reputation for disturbing the peace.

Mairon had half a thought to call for Aulë, Melkor shouldn’t be here and Eru only knew what kind of havoc he would wreak.

It wasn’t the first time Melkor had come to the forge when Mairon was the only one left sweating over some project or another, often it ended with Melkor watching Marion work as he seemed inclined to do this time. Sometimes he would cause the most inconvenient issues, moving the tongs to the other side of the table or knocking a tub of tacks to the floor and smirk as he watched Mairon try to catch them. One time he ‘accidentally’ swept a barrel of oil with a hot sword in over as Mairon was tempering the metal and ruined the floor. Aulë was curious about how that incident came to happen.

“Busy at work, I see,” Melkor said, sounding more pleased than Mairon thought he should, and Mairon was somewhat relieved that he didn’t immediately head over to the racks and knock down the carefully crafted armour hanging on them. Instead, black hair mottled with silver brushed Mairon’s back, and he shivered as Melkor settled to lean on the bench next to him. “Do you ever take time off?”

Mairon hardly had to think about it before he said, “No. I have no cause to.”

A deep hum from Melkor was the end of that conversation, and the hiss of the forge and the gentle tapping of Mairon’s hammer were the only sounds in the cavernous room for a time as both he and Melkor absorbed themselves into the delicate twisting of metal. Mairon almost forgot the presence pressing in on him as he worked, but there was a sharp reminder when he had to reach across the bench to pick a shining gem to set in the middle of his work. The flex of his bare back caught the fabric of robes and he could barely repress the instinct to twitch away; but the enormity of the power radiating from Melkor in soft, dark waves was impossible to escape.

“Is there nowhere you must be, my Lord?” The question felt abrasive even as it left Mairon’s mouth, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it.

Melkor only hummed. “No, not just yet, little Maia,” - Mairon bristled - “I would like to see you finish this beautiful little trinket that you are putting so much work into.”

“It may be some time yet,” Mairon insisted. He did not like being watched while he worked, there was a reason his own work space was so far from the rest.

“I have time,” Melkor all but purred into his ear.

“Very well,” Mairon relented, the gaze of burning star-fire in Melkor’s eyes making him sweat more than even the forge could. Time passed slowly, Melkor drawing ever closer under the guise of watching Mairon’s fingers pinch and pry and bend the silvery metal into dainty little curves. By the time Mairon considered himself done for the evening he was antsy and flustered. 

“It isn’t done,” Mairon said as he put his tools back, trying to force the flush that swept down his back into nothingness. “I do not know when I will have time to continue.”

Mairon hung his last pair of pliers on a hook, he took a moment to compose himself before turning around and his back bumped onto the pegs as he startled. Melkor was looming over him now, tall and broad and powerful, crowding him against the wall. He brought a hand up to brush a wild lock of hair behind Mairon’s ear before his mouth pulled into a chilling smile.

“I think you and I will have plenty of time to finish many things together,” Melkor whispered, barely a ghost between them before he leaned down to press a scalding kiss onto Mairon’s lips.

A moan came unbidden from Mairon’s throat and exploded into the scarce air between them as Melkor let up for a moment. Mairon was unsure, but he couldn’t find it in himself to say no. As a great muscled arm swept around his waist and strong fingers dug into the back of his neck before sliding across his sweat-slick shoulder, Mairon found he didn’t want to say no. 

“My Lord,” Mairon tried, clutching at the heavy robes and starkissed hair that surrounded him, trying to find any sort of purchase in a world that suddenly seemed to be falling away. 

“You do not want this?” Melkor asked, pulling back far enough that Mairon could move off the tools digging uncomfortably into his back for a blissful moment. “Have I misinterpreted your insistence on teasing me every time I pass with this form you chose? Have I misread the way you heat up when I come to watch you work? Not once have you told your  _ master _ ,” and he spat this word, “about my visits. Tell me, little smith, am I wrong?”

Mairon hesitated for a short eternity, but even that wasn’t enough to shake the inscrutable feeling that perhaps he was, somehow, a melody in Melkor’s great part of the Song, so he gasped, “Take me, please,” and fell.

The slide of Melkor's hands up his back to seize the hair at the base of his skull and cup his cheek as if it were a butterfly's wing sent Mairon's blood boiling. A great shiver wracked down his spine as Melkor pressed and pressed, harder and harder into his mouth until Mairon whimpered, gasped and stumbled back. The sharp pain of tools digging into his bare skin was hardly enough to distract him from letting his hands roam between the gaps in Melkor's robes. Indeed it set off fireworks of desire where he was sure to find bruises come morning and he moaned whenever they shifted, but he tensed as he felt the smile on Melkor's lips. 

"What's so funny?" Mairon demanded, tugging Melkor's hair as his mouth drifted down Mairon’s neck to lick and kiss away the sheen of sweat on his shoulder. 

"I should have known," Melkor chuckled. 

"Known  _ what _ ?" Mairon was getting frustrated now, what with the way Melkor was teasing his burning skin with feather light touches. 

"That you were a masochist."

Mairon's first instinct was to push Melkor away, argue that he most certainly wasn't a masochist or anything of the sort and Melkor was no longer welcome within fifty feet of him, but Melkor grasped his thighs and heaved until Mairon's legs were wrapped around his hips and the tools were scraping delicious lines of fire up his back. It left him gasping and clutching at Melkor's robes, scrabbling to find purchase through a rush of fire dribbling down his stomach. Their mutual interest was evident, not that either of them were inclined to hide it, and the thought made Mairon flush as salacious images flooded his mind when he felt quite how  _ big _ Melkor was, half-aroused as the Vala was. 

He wasn't left to stew in his thoughts for long, before Melkor was claiming his mouth and licking into it as deeply as he could reach with a tongue that seemed too long to fit in Melkor’s own mouth, let alone Mairon’s. It all but consumed Mairon as he choked on Melkor’s tongue and tears and drool dripped onto his chest. Despite this he was burning, he could feel the way the flush made his ears scalding hot and he whimpered to be closer.

There was a deep, desperate urgency in how he groped for the silken ribbons tying the front of Melkor’s robes shut and he yanked at them fruitlessly until they dissolved into ash under his fingertips. The muscled chest would have made him weep if his tears weren’t already being smoothed away by Melkor’s fingers. 

“Why do you cry, little smith?” Melkor whispered, still blotting the shining tears with the pads of his fingers. 

“I do not know,” Mairon replied shakily, “but do not take my tears as a rejection, my Lord.”

Mairon wasted no time at that, he was quick to drag his mouth down Melkor’s neck and peck at blue veins until he could bite into the flesh before him like a prime deer haunch fresh off a hunt. The shuddering breath that tickled his hair made him smile and redouble his efforts to leave as many bruises and bitemarks peppered across Melkor’s chest as the Vala would endure before he was pulled up by his jaw for a forceful kiss. 

It was only when Melkor’s hand came to the ties on his breeches that Mairon hesitated. Did he really want to do this? Here, in one of Aulë’s forges? Surely that was something akin to sacrilege.

“What is it?” Melkor asked as he guided his hand upwards to knead into the fat on Mairon’s stomach.

Mairon almost didn’t answer, but another breathless kiss had him gasping out, “Master Aulë will be furious if he finds out about this.”

Melkor laughed. “Then he will not find out,” he whispered as he finally tugged the ties free and slipped the rump of Mairon’s breeches down.

There might have been an answer on Mairon’s tongue, but if there was it was quickly dispelled by a hard squeeze on his arse that sent his hips stuttering forward and the tools pressing deeper into his shoulders. He wanted to say that he couldn’t bear the feeling anymore, the delicious pricks of pain that burst and rushed down to his cock, but he was already being lifted from the wall and hauled over to the table he had been working on not even twenty minutes earlier. There was no delicacy as Melkor all but dropped him onto the surface and retreated just far enough to pull Mairon’s breeches off and leave them in a crumpled pile on the floor.

Naked, Mairon suddenly felt self-conscious. Of course he worked in the forge all day shirtless to feel the hot breezes from the furnaces and the sparks that sometimes jumped up to kiss his skin, but it was nothing compared to the vulnerability he felt as Melkor drank in the sight of him. His thighs tensed as he tried to pull them together despite the Vala standing between his legs, and he thought that he might actually be on fire when Melkor brushed gentle fingers over his hips with reverence. 

“It’s a shame Aulë will never appreciate what you can do,” Melkor sighed as his palms flattened across Mairon’s chest and pushed him until his back was flush with the table. The cool surface pressing against burning bruises made Mairon shiver and struggle to sit up to no avail. Melkor’s hands were as good as iron bars holding him down until he was writhing and begging for  _ something _ . 

It was only when Mairon finally seemed ready to bite a chunk out of Melkor’s arm that Melkor finally relented, leaning forward until his clothed cock pressed against Mairon’s arse and his legs were forced wide to accommodate him. There was an unforgiving glint in his eye as one hand slid up his chest to circle his neck just under his jaw and the other down to grip his member firmly.

“M-my Lord,” Mairon gasped, gripping at the shoulders above him and wrapping his legs around Melkor’s hips.

“Mairon,” the Vala cooed. Mairon never thought that hearing his own name could feel like jumping off a cliff into a rushing river below, but somehow it did and it made Mairon’s flush glow and Melkor seemed to get colder in that moment until his skin heated up to match the flames licking through Mairon’s body. When Melkor began to drag his hand up Mairon’s straining shaft tears started to fall again.

It was barely a moment before Mairon was shaking and gasping for breath that he didn’t really need, but it felt good to fill his lungs with the winds from over the seas and the breezes that fell from the mountains. Melkor was teaching him that it felt just as good to be deprived. Stars were exploding before his open eyes and a bubble was growing and growing in his stomach with each heave.

Melkor let go.

Mairon was going to complain, wheeze out some complaint that he was so close and it was downright cruel of Melkor to stop there, but when he struggled to his elbows to glare he was struck by the sight of Melkor flushed and shedding his robe with a grace unexpected from someone so huge. Melkor was a Vala, it struck Mairon then, he was a being of unknowable power and potential and here he was sweating and whispering grunts and gruff words to a little Maia. The words struck from his mind, Mairon could only watch as Melkor reached towards him and pressed thick fingers to swollen lips. The command was silent, eye contact burning between them for hardly a second before Mairon parted his lips and let Melkor slide his digits in and in until he was petting the back of Mairon’s tongue with the pads of his fingers. Mairon did not gag, relaxing and swallowing when Melkor probed too far.

The growl that rumbled from Melkor’s chest when Mairon moaned shook the earth, and Melkor was quick to pull his hand away and watch saliva drip onto Mairon’s chest as he moved his hand down until he was barely tracing a burning line down Mairon’s member. Mairon couldn’t say he had done this before, what with his unfaltering dedication to his craft, so when a warm, slick digit teased at his entrance he tensed.

“Relax, little one,” Melkor crooned, his fingers curling slightly as he pushed past the first ring of muscle. “Relax.”

Mairon did his best to follow Melkor’s instruction, the uncomfortable feeling would fade as he relaxed but returned when he tensed again as Melkor slipped his finger deeper. There were frustrated tears in his eyes when he cried, “I’m sorry, my Lord.”

A soft look came over Melkor’s features as he leant down to kiss the tears away and whispered, “Relax, precious, I’ve got you.”

It took a minute before Mairon found he could truly ease up, but when he did the discomfort was quick to disappear into sparks of glowing pleasure as he was stretched and loosened. It was just when he was getting properly comfortable with the pace Melkor had set that Melkor added a second finger, and then a third. It wasn’t long before Mairon was gasping again, unable to breathe through the pleasure forcing its way up his throat only to be swallowed by a demanding mouth.

Just when Mairon thought it couldn’t get better, Melkor pulled out and Mairon was left to frown and clench down on emptiness, a noise of protest and confusion echoing around the forge. Melkor only laughed and made sure to keep Mairon occupied with a fierce kiss until there was something much thicker pressing at his entrance and Mairon squirmed. There was a brief stretch as the head of Melkor’s shaft breached him, but it was rather overtaken by the grunt Melkor huffed into Mairon’s hair and the breathless gasps Mairon could hardly contain as his skin flared once again.

"They would never let you thrive, but I would,'' Melkor moaned into his ear as his cock slid deeper, stuttering when muscles spasmed around him until his hips were flush with Mairon’s arse. "I  _ will _ ."

The whimper that Mairon made as he was filled to the brink and then some would have put an injured wolf to shame in its pitifulness. He wasn’t a small creature by any means, but Melkor was vast beyond Mairon’s limited perception of the world and utterly overwhelmed him as Mairon gasped and whined and mewled for the Vala. There was nothing left for Mairon to hold onto as his fingers threaded through Melkor’s and his hand was pulled firmly to Melkor’s lips where light kisses were pressed into every dip. His free hand was quick to clutch at Melkor’s hair when the cock inside him shifted and he saw stars.

The pace set by Melkor’s sure movements was slow but so blessedly deep that Mairon couldn't breathe, let alone demand he go deeper. It sent tiny flames crawling over his skin where Melkor touched him then, when a large hand slipped up to his neck and squeezed, he flared as if he had the light of Laurelin under his skin. Mairon couldn't see or hear, all he knew was the pressure building in his head and stomach as Melkor forced him in and in and in. He was utterly surrounded.

“Follow me," Melkor grunted as his hips picked up speed and his hair fell in a curtain around them both. 

Mairon had no air left in his lungs to speak and so it was the voice from deep within his mind that burst forth, whining and whimpering and pulling a thought from the dredges of his lust addled brain. “ _ Yes, Master _ .”

A rumbling growl filled the room as Melkor grabbed Mairon’s hips and forced them closer, burying so impossibly deep that tears sizzled as they escaped the debauched Maia and touched his skin. If Mairon were to open his eyes it would be to the sight of Melkor, massive and unyielding above him lit by rippling firelight. He would see the sparks and flames that jumped from his skin to caress desperately at the form above him, trying to devour and burn. He would see a look of awe on the Vala's face as he writhed and bucked and all but demanded that Melkor  _ move _ . 

At that whatever semblance of control Melkor had been holding onto escaped him and he set a punishing pace, only his hands on Mairon's hip and throat keeping him from sliding back up the table with every thrust. 

Lights burst behind Mairon's eyelids as Melkor's cock dragged pleasure out of him and he felt like he was imploding, a dying star collapsing in on itself endlessly. He blindly clutched at Melkor's hand, squeezing and tugging, pulling their linked fingers to lay just next to his head so he could gasp into the searing flesh. Desperate were the sounds Mairon made, little cries and whines punctuated by the deep grunts from Melkor as his sure movements stuttered. 

“Little spark,” Melkor snarled into Mairon’s neck. Somehow it sounded soft, fond. “my flame, you are precious, so precious.”

Mairon hiccuped against the skin of Melkor’s hand, baring down as much as he could when he heard those words. They pulled a tingling sensation across the palms of his hands and the soles of his feet and he couldn’t hope to hold on any longer. The wave of his orgasm threatened to drown him, dragged out and out with every jerk of Melkor’s hips before he pushed as close as possible. There was a sensation rather like being full beyond words when Melkor came, thighs twitching and panting breaths painting Mairon’s skin with desire.

They lay there for a while, the two of them. Mairon was trapped under the hulking mass of Melkor but he was content to just lay there and drift in a plane of hazy bliss, squirming only when Melkor finally retreated and let his cock fall out of Mairon with a slick noise.

Mairon lay there staring at Melkor as the dark Vala summoned his robe from the floor before he turned to the quivering Maia and gathered him in his arms saying, “Come, little flame, let’s get you cleaned up, yes?”

There was nothing left in Mairon to object so he simply curled into the chest, strong arms clutching him with surprising gentleness. 

“What a mess we made,” Melkor mused, looking over the room with tools on the floor, scorch marks on the table and small puddles of tears, saliva, drool and semen decorating every surface. “Do not fret, I will take care of it. Your Aulë will never know.”

“Hmm,” was all Mairon could manage, not particularly caring for anything but the hands that wiped him down with a soft cloth and the dulcet vibrations of the voice that permeated his existence.

A rumbling shook through him then when Melkor chuckled and wrapped Mairon into the folds of his heavy robes, pulling him close and whispering sweet things into his ear. 

If this was what a disturbance of the peace was like then maybe Mairon would consider welcoming Melkor into the forge more often.


End file.
